


It’s been a long time coming

by Enochian Things (Salr323)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Castiel/Meg Masters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Enochian%20Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to S6e10 “Caged Heat”.  Dean can’t stop thinking about that kiss…</p><p>He wonders if this is how it began: a quick thrill to distract from the endless fighting, a new high to mask the pain of defeat, something stronger to banish the desolation of living in this godless freakin' universe.  Castiel, Angel of the Lord, constantly chasing oblivion...</p><p>
  <i>I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence?  That's what decadence is for.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s been a long time coming

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to fried _flamingo for the beta and the chat which inspired this. :)

Occasional lights from passing cars stripe across the dark ceiling, silver through thin motel drapes. The room stinks of stale cigarettes and cheap soap.

And Dean can’t sleep.

There’s an image looping through his mind, over and over: Cas with his hand in Meg’s hair, his fingers clutching, his body pressing her up against the wall. So human. So _sensual_.

So _not_ Cas.

The memory makes him antsy. Tension is buzzing under his skin and it sets him to pacing, back and forth in front of the window.

“Dean.” Sam looks up from his laptop, its blue light turning his face ghastly. “It’s two a.m. Just go to sleep.”

Sam, of course, doesn’t need to sleep. Not now he’s a literal soulless hunting machine.

Dean pushes a hand through his hair and perches on the edge of his bed, knee bouncing. Sam’s so far from himself he’s barely recognizable, and now this thing with Cas? It’s like everything – _everyone_ – around him is changing, leaving him without even going anywhere. His chest is tight with distress and he blurts out, “Something’s wrong with Cas.”

Sam grunts, his attention back on his research. “Really?”

“He kissed a freakin’ demon, Sam.”

“I thought that was just a distraction.”

Whatever it was, it was _wrong_. Cas doesn’t do shit like that. He isn’t part of this scrappy, dirty human world. He’s pure, like steel, like the keen edge of a blade. And, sure, maybe he’s more human than when they’d first met, back when he was radiant with divine power, but his humanity is generous, almost tender. Dorky, maybe, often impatient, but not _that_ – whatever the hell that was. “He didn’t have to—” Dean shifts, unease settling below his belt. “It’s kinda gross, right?”

Sam looks up, his sigh impatient. “Gross?”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“I think you sound like a kid who just caught his parents screwing.”

“Shut up. I’m serious.” He rubs a hand over his face, but it does nothing to ease his tension. The old Sam – the _real_ Sam – would understand. “There’s something wrong, man. He’s changing.”

“So? He’s allowed. People change, Dean.” And then, below his breath, “It’s not always a bad thing.”

Dean ignores the allusion; they’re not talking about Sam this time. He just says, “Well, I don’t like it.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t like it at all. He wishes he could bleach the memory out of his damn brain. But he can’t. He can’t stop picturing the way Cas had curled his hand into her hair, the way he'd tipped her head back, let his fingers linger on her collarbone.

The way he'd kissed her like he knew what he was doing, like he  _wanted_ it.

Dean tries to swallow but his throat is too dry.

“Go to sleep,” Sam says. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Sleep, right. Like that’s gonna happen. Sam might not give a fuck about anything anymore, but Dean’s seen things Sam hasn’t and he knows where this could end. He’s met that other Cas, the one from the fucked up future, with his absinthe and amphetamines and the constant stench of weed and sex.

He wonders if this is how it began: a quick thrill to distract from the endless fighting, a new high to mask the pain of defeat, something stronger to banish the desolation of living in this godless fucking universe. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, constantly chasing oblivion...

_I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence? That's what decadence is for._

Because, sure, they’d stopped the apocalypse, but who’s to say they’d saved Cas? Lucifer had always insisted they’d find themselves at the same damn place in the end, and, as much as Dean doesn’t believe a word that dick said, there’s a war in Heaven and Cas is losing.

What if he’s falling anyway?

What if Dean’s losing him too?

The thought jolts him from the bed, a cold sweat standing out on his skin.

Sam growls, “Seriously, dude? I’m trying to work here.”

“So work.” Dean grabs his jacket and heads out the door. It’s stifling in the room anyway. He needs open skies to clear his head, maybe a drink. Or three.

Outside, there are only a couple of cars in the empty lot. The air is cool but not cold, and it’s country-fresh because they’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. As always. Dean sucks in a breath and tries to clear his head, but he can’t get past the memory of Cas with his fingers knotted in Meg’s hair – with a joint between his lips, a gun in his hand as he waits for Dean to send him to his death.

_Might as well bang a few gongs before the lights go out._

“Fuck,” he mutters, punctuates it with a kick to the curb. “Fuck, Cas, what the hell are you doing?”

He feels it immediately, the subtle displacement of air behind him and the barely there surge of power. It raises gooseflesh along the back of his neck, up into his hair.

Cas says, “Currently I’m leading an army into battle in defense of Earth and the intangible right to free will.” He leaves a beat before adding, “What the hell are _you_ doing, Dean?”

“I didn’t pray,” he says, turning around. “I was just thinking.”

Cas gives him an irritable frown, tips his head like he might be listening to distant battle reports. “You were thinking loudly.”

“I’m sorry.” He looks down at his feet, because seeing Cas there, feeling all that might radiating from him, is making it difficult to forget the sight of him bumping noses with Meg. “Feel free to flap off anytime.”

A huff of breath. “You wanted me,” Cas says. “Why?”

“I didn’t—”

“I felt it.” And this time when Cas tips his head and narrows his eyes all that angelic intent is focused on Dean. “What do you _want_ , Dean?”

He swallows and shifts under that steadfast gaze, half daunted and half thrilled. He can’t explain why it makes his pulse trip. “Well I— Since you’re here, I was...” He scratches a hand through his hair, awkward. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Cas blinks at him. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Feeling like yourself.”

His eyes narrow in sudden, cagy suspicion. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be?”

And Dean knows – he _knows_ – he’s on to something. “I dunno, man, you’ve been acting kinda off.”

“Off?”

“Not like yourself. Different.”

“Well I’m—” Cas shakes his head in frustration, takes a step closer, right into Dean’s personal space. “Dean, I’m fighting a _war_ ,” he says – growls, actually. “I’m fighting on several fronts, in several planes of existence. You can have no concept of what I’m confronting. So, I’m sorry if I’ve been ‘off’, but I have a lot on my mind.”

“Huh, right,” Dean says, trying not to respond to the predatory way Cas is leaning into him. “Didn’t stop you from sucking face with Meg, earlier.”

Cas stares for a long moment before he says, “You’re referring to our kiss.”

“Oh, it’s ‘our’ kiss?” He forces a laugh. “So you’re a couple now? Gotta say, man, you could do better.”

“I was distracting—”

“Right. You looked really fucking distract—”

“This is ridiculous,” Cas says. “ _This_ is why you called me here?”

“I didn’t call you. I just—”

Without warning, Cas shoves him hard against the motel wall, hands fisting into his jacket and holding him there. “I _know_ when you call me, Dean.” He’s so close Dean can feel his angry breaths against his lips. It makes him shiver; Cas can be fucking intimidating. “And this is why? This is why you called me from the battlefield? Because of a _kiss_?”

Dean sucks in a breath, tries to get a grip on his racing heartbeat. “Not just that,” he says. “You’re changing, man. You’re not yourself.”

His fists tighten in Dean’s coat, his expression sharp. “Nothing’s changed, Dean. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

“Really? Because locking lips with demons… That’s normal for you?”

Cas stares for a long beat, then looks away, incredulous. “The things I’m doing, Dean. The destruction being wrought in Heaven to keep you safe from Raphael, to keep Earth safe… And _this_ is what concerns you? A kiss?”

“Because it ain’t you, man.”

“Well maybe it is.” He swings his gaze back, glittering and angry. “Just like you, I do what I must to get the job done.”

“I don’t kiss demons—”

Furious, Cas jolts him hard against the wall. His knuckles are pressing against Dean’s collar bone, warm against his skin, and his eyes... Fuck, his eyes are _fierce_. “What’s the matter, Dean?” he snarls, practically breathing the words against his mouth. “Would you rather I kissed _you_?”

Dean freezes. They both do, eyes locked.  
_  
No_ , is what he should say. _Fuck, no_.

But the denial sticks in his throat and the question hangs ragged between them. Dean’s heart is pounding, blood running hot into his face, and Cas is just taking him apart with a fucking _look_. It’s all Dean can do to breathe, to keep his chest rising and falling beneath Cas’s clenched fists, while inside his head, like a freakin’ caged bird, the words are battering against the bars: _yes, yes, fuck, yes._

And then Cas’s expression changes, his eyes widen, lips parting in that old look of wonder. “You would,” he says in astonishment, fingers softening in Dean’s jacket. “You want me to…”

“No.” He chokes out the lie, moves to push Cas’s hands away, but somehow his fingers wind up knotting in his coat instead. “No, I—”

“Dean,” Cas growls, shoving Dean hard against the wall; it’s almost a fight, the way they’re dragging at each other. “ _Dean_...”

“Jesus,” he gasps and hauls Cas in, hard, their mouths clashing in a harsh, urgent kiss. Hardly even a kiss.

Then Dean pushes him away, but he can’t seem to let go and Cas surges back in, pressing his body flush against Dean’s, his hand sweeping up into his hair, tugging his head to one side as he kisses him again. Really kisses him. And something inside Dean ignites, it goes up like a freaking torch, and all he can see is light and heat. And somehow he gets Cas pressed up against the wall and his fingers tangle in his hair and stroke his face and it’s _Cas, Cas, Cas_...

And, oh God, _Cas_...?

Dean lurches back, wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. “I don’t...” He’s shaking as he turns away – horrified, ecstatic, dazzled. “I don’t know what that was.”

“It was…” Cas is breathless. “It was unexpected.”

 _Unexpected_? Fuck. His throat tightens, mortification sour on his tongue. “Shit, I gotta go,” he blurts, striking out blindly for the Impala. “This never hap—”

“Dean.” Cas catches his arm, stopping him. He’s shaking too; Dean can feel it through the fingers Cas wraps around his wrist. “Dean, wait.”

He stops, half turned toward Cas and half ready to bolt.

Cas draws closer, his expression startled but unguarded in a way Dean’s almost forgotten. “I didn’t mean unwelcome.”

Dean’s breath expels itself in a gasp, almost a laugh. And deep down, beneath all the confusion and fear, he feels a burst of joyful release. “Yeah,” he says, smiling unbidden. “Yeah, okay.”

Cas tightens his grip. “It’s just that this is…truly terrible timing. I…” His face crumples, he looks wretched. “I have to go.”

Dean stares at him, throat working. “ _Now_?”

“It’s— The battle…” Cas says. “It’s a critical moment.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dean says, jerking away. And, fuck, this hurts. “Your war is—”

“Dean, please.” Cas grabs him by the shoulder, turns him around without effort. “When it’s over, when I’ve won...” He touches a hand to Dean’s face, tentative despite the raw power banked behind his eyes. “It’s for you,” he says. “All of it, Dean. I’m doing it for you.”

Dean takes a breath, makes his throat work. “I just want you here, man. That’s all I want from you.”

Cas frowns, looks down at his feet. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

“I—” He gives a frustrated shake of his head. “When I’ve won, I’ll explain everything, Dean. And then we can...” A smile, almost shy, touches his lips. “Please, remember that I’m on your side. I’ll always be your friend, Dean. You just have to trust me.”

“And I do, man.” He straightens his shoulders under Cas’s grip. “Truth is, you’re about the only person I _can_ trust right now.”

Cas closes his eyes, smiles in relief – like he’d doubted it, or something. “Thank you, Dean,” he says. “The— The things I’m having to do, the choices I’m having to make… Sometimes I wonder whether—” He cuts himself off, fixes Dean with another intent look. “Your trust means everything to me, Dean.”

“Well, you got it.”

For a long beat their gaze holds, then Cas looks away. “I wish I could stay.”

“So stay.”

“I can’t. Not yet.” He straightens his shoulders, braces himself, and with a sinking sensation Dean feels the flex of his wings, the hum of rising power as Cas prepares to leave – to go to war.

Gripped by a sudden fear, Dean grabs his coat to hold him there. “You come back,” he says, voice thick with everything he’s not saying out loud. “You damn well come back, Cas.”

His expression softens. “Dean,” he says, reaching out to cup his face. “I’ll always come back to you.”

Then he’s gone and Dean’s leaning into empty air so abruptly that he stumbles forward, into the space Cas left behind. And, damn, but he hates when Cas does that; his whole chest aches with the shock of his absence. But he makes himself breathe through it – one, two – until he’s back under control. Dean’s used to being left behind, after all.

He takes another breath, blows it out slow into the night. And allows himself a moment to think, to remember the heat and tender violence of their kiss and to try and imagine where it might lead.

He can’t see the road ahead, can’t envision a future where he and Cas would be able to… But maybe Sam’s right? Maybe people do change, maybe _things_ change, and maybe it doesn’t always suck. That hope, fragile as it is, makes him smile.

He tips his face to the sky, picks out the constellations he recognizes and imagines Cas among them – even though he knows that’s not really how it works. There’s still tension humming under his skin, but he knows it for what it is now and that makes it easier.

Yearning.

What he feels for Cas… He doesn’t have a word for it; he’s not sure the word even exists. It’s belonging, it’s connection, it’s a bond that goes deeper than blood and bone. It’s _everything_. And when Cas is gone, when they’re apart…? Well, the want of him hurts like a bitch.

But he’ll be back. Cas always comes back. It’s a universal constant, like the rising of the sun and the falling of the rain.

Cas always comes back.

Even at the fucked up end of the world, Cas had been right there at Dean’s side; he can’t imagine a world in which that would ever change.

And he doesn’t fucking want to.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Change is Gonna Come” – Otis Redding.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as [enochian-things](http://www.enochian-things.tumblr.com/) so come and say hi! :)


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